In this RPG, much like the other Main RPGs you can be any character in the known universe, fictional or otherwise. However, You must have in inate ability to completely f-ck their sh-t up and destroy any vestige of the character you choose to play.

You want to wantonly kill other people? Go ahead. You want BIG F-CK OFF LASERS!!? they're yours! You want to randomly destroy the cosmos with your telepathy? Feel free! Basically in this RPG, it's one big free-for-all deathmatch where anything goes.

But I hear what you're saying... "Wait, Thor doesn't have a bazooka!" Well he does now, B*tch! BOOM!

Welcome to Ultimatum. F-CK YEAH!

GameMasters: Optikal & Gallagher

__________________

Jones: Tell me the truth… what are you going to feel when you put a bullet in one of those men, Nick?

there was Chuck and there was God. They spent eternity arm-wrestling, drinking booze and watching extreme sports on the TV. And for a while things were cool. Then one day God slept with Chuck's girl Stacey, and that was not cool. Chuck and God had a bust up and it was deemed that Stacey was a ****. But then God cussed Chuck's momma and pushed him too far. So Chuck Norris round kicked God in the face and created the universe.

"What do you want now, sir?", The clerk asked, much to Lord Vader's increasing frustration.

"I have requested of you a package of your 'Planter's Peanuts', for the sole purpose of digestion... but have found nothing,", The Dark Lord of the Sith stated, in an accusing manner. "Have I been deceived?"

"I told you already. Aisle 12, second shelf on the right."

Vader would have none of it. "I have inspected the location you wish me to seek. There was nothing there. Now release the location of the peanuts, or suffer!"

"Enough of this,", Vader finished. "I will not stand for your treachery, store clerk. You will surrender the peanuts to me at once!"

Vader grabbed the clerk by the throat, lifting him off of his feet with an iron-clad grip. The clerk's eyes widened as he began to struggle against Vader's might, but failed, as the Sith Lord carried him out of the aisle.

Arriving in Aisle 12, Vader turned the clerk sideways, allowing him to look at the rack. A stormtrooper walked up to them, per Vader's orders.

"GKKKK-GKKKK", The clerk choked, unable to speak at first. "IDN'T-KNWW--!"

Vader threw the clerk against the rack, knocking over several glass jars of tomato paste and canned bologna loaves. Turning to the Stormtrooper, Vader angrily paced about the aisle, thinking up his next move as he spoke.

"You are to tear this store apart until you find those peanuts, and bring me the cashews, I want them alive!"

Just then, Darth Vader's eyes met an unlikely sight: A can of Planter's Peanuts, sitting just beyond the horizon ontop of a sales rack, specially priced at 99 cents. If he still had lips, Vader would have probably drooled at the thought. Instead, he proceeded, making his way towards the salty treats with strong haste.

But as he reached out for them, Vader was usurped by another's hand, as a man grabbed the canister and placed it into his cart. Vader turned to the man in annoyance, only to realize that the two had met before.

Vader stood silent, ponderous of the question. Certainly, he didn't possess any of these supposed 'lights' at the moment. Though he could easily buy some. The Empire's credit rate was unlimited, after all. But the question remained... did he wish for them to be 'trashed'? Would that solve or hinder his plans to rule the galaxy?

Vader reached up, attempting to force choke the actor. But his power as the current actor playing Batman was far too great to be affected by such a trick. Bale simply continued down the aisle, looking at every aisle for a cart of lights to smash. Struggling, Vader finally gave up, and sighed, depressed over his lack of peanuts. A stormtrooper approached him.

"I'm sorry, sir. We did everything we could."

Instead, Vader force choked the life out of the stormtrooper. The armored guard fell to his knees in agony, gasping for breath as Vader made his way for the store's exit.

Empty beer bottles and Twinkie wrappers cluttered the Man of Steel's bedroom at the Fortress of Solitude. Although a drink and a sugary snack were two of his favorite things, Superman was currently indulging in one of his other favorite things.

"Oh, Papi," the Puerto Rican whore moaned as she lay bent over on the bed, Superman behind her wearing nothing but his red cape.

"Don't call me that, call me Clark," He grunted as he continued thrusting.

"Okay...Oh, Clark!"

"Call me mild-mannered!"

"You're so wild-mannered!"

"Mild!"

"Mild! Clark, oh god! Yes!"

He eyes rolled in the back of his head as the moment came.

"Ahh!!!!"

BLAM!

The whore was blasted across the room along with certain bodily fluids. Her naked body slammed into the wall and fell crumpled to the floor.

She was dead, the fourth one this week. One of the drawbacks to his super powers was the fact that everything he did was atleast a 100 times stronger than a regular man. Even busting a nut.

"Goddammit. Another mess to clean up. I swear to God, Wonder Woman better get off the ****ing rag soon."

He got off the bed, still wearing nothing but his cape, and grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge in his room.

It was almost five in the morning. Although he didn't need to sleep, Metropolis was getting ready to begin their day, and it was a great place to fly around and cause trouble.

Downing the beer bottle in one swallow, he tossed it against the dead whore's body and put his hands to his hips.

"This looks like a job for *hic* Superman!....Now where the **** are my pants?"

__________________

"These are the times that try men's souls... Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph."

-- Thomas Paine

"People never lie so much as after a hunt, during a war or before an election."
-- Otto von Bismarck

"Ok, wer'e here. That's enough," Horatio says as he pulls up in his Hummer and tells the prostitute he just picked up to stop giving him one.

Without even looking at her, he zips up and steps out of the car in slo-motion, the wind suddenly appearing to whip at his jacket. He walks up to the crime scene, still in slo-motion, while the rest of the work continues on at normal pace.

"What have we here Frank?"

Detective Frank Tripp looks up from his notepad and glances back at the body before looking at Horatio. "Well, you've heard the phrase 'Go screw yourself'? That's what this guy died from."

Caine kneels down and looks at the body. Sure enough, the man's cock had been stretched all the way around and shoved up his own ass.
"Hmm..."
"What do you think, Horatio?"

Caine stands up and reaches into his jacket pocket. "I think..." He puts his sunglasses on. "that this man is ****ed."

YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

"The **** was that?"

"That Frank..." Horatio pulls out his other pair of sunglasses and puts those on too. "..was The Who."

YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

__________________
I don't care about your deathmatches. Don't even ask. I'll just report it as spam.

Suddenly, MJ's eyes went wide with realization."Don't worry, Daron", he said as he got up and slung Gary Coleman's body over his shoulder."I'll take care of the body for you."
"Whatever, Jacko", Daron grinned as he masturbated to the queen of hearts card with a crazy look in his eye.

"Oh...uh...Daron", MJ called before stepping out the door."Where are...um, where do you keep your...ah..."

"Condomsareinthetopdrawer", Daron hastily said as he sped his stroke up to superhuman levels, making his body levitate centimeters off of the chair.

"Yay! Thank you, Daron", MJ closed his eyes and smiled as he reached into Daron's dresser drawer and pulled out a jimmy.

"Come play with me, Gary Coleman! Let's go play!"

As MJ left, Daron shot his load all over the table and slumped back in his seat, sighing in sweet relief. "So...whadda wanna do now, Doc", Bugs said as he munched on a carrot.

"First, I'm gonna smoke me this ****in' joint", Daron said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a massive hog leg. "After that...I don't ****in' know."

"Wanna go see what the Grimace is up to", Daron asked as he lit the doobie up.

"**** yeah", Bugs exclaimed."That purple bastard has the best liquid in town!"

"Then let's ****in' ride, rabbit", Daron screamed as he stood up really fast, knocking the chair that he was sitting in backwards.

Daron beat on Grimace until his stripper club was nothing but a pair of bloody legs in his hands. Grimace, or what once was the Grimace, was now a puddle of purple goo on the floor.
Daron tore the bone out from one of the stripper's legs and fashioned it into a straw. Once made, Daron used the stripper straw to snort up what was left of the Grimace.

"Mmmmmm...that hit the spot!" *BUUURP*

Suddenly the tune of I'm a Little Tea Pot began to play, and Daron reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Yo, Serj, my man! What the **** is up!!"

__________________"Take the risk of thinking for yourself, much more happiness, truth, beauty, and wisdom will come to you that way."

Caine pulls the Hummer up to the front of the Miami-Dade crime lab with an ear-piercing screech. Literally. Three passersby grab their heads in pain as blood explodes out of their ears. Horatio pulls the lips of the transsexual Filipino he picked up on the way over off his 'Staff of Justice'. "That's enough you dirty *****," he says as he kicks s/he out of the car.

He left Calleigh and Eric back at the crime scene to finish up. He knows they're ****ing now. Everyone knows they're ****ing. It was at the top of YouTube for a few weeks. But he also knows that they won't let the get in the way of the job. He'd fire them if it did. After raping them both. Simultaneously. Never let it be said that Horatio doesn't believe the punishment shouldn't fit the crime. Especially if he gets something out of it as well.

The doors open in slow-motion as Caine walks down the corridor towards the lap. The men can only admire him, and be confused by the awkward feelings his ginger hair stirs within them. The women all check their schedules to see when their date with Horatio is. There's no sexual harassment where Horatio Caine works. The sex is mandatory.
"Miss Boa Vista," Horatio says to the woman working in this particular lab. At the sound of his voice, her eyes roll back and she falls to the ground in a seizure of ecstasy. Horatio takes of his sunglasses and shakes his head. "Happens every time."

For the next hour, while Natalia quivers uncontrollably in pleasure, Horatio uses his telekinetic abilities to run tests on the note he found at the crime scene. Obviously some type of calling card, and Horatio was afraid he knew who left it behind. Breaking the tertiary code written in ancient reverse-Sumerian was easy enough. He had broken the code on the drive to the lab. But he needed to confirm his suspicions. Horatio Caine does not act without evidence. Unless he's high. Or drunk. Or both. Or having sex. Or all three. Or it's a Tuesday.

Horatio Caine hates Tuesday's. They just seve to remind him how far away the weekend is. Why do you think he travels through time so much?

The final test completes with a beep, and Horatio reads the results through the neural interface in his glasses. "Just what I thought."

***

One of the most depraved individuals on the planet struts through his lair, smiling and laughing to himself. He can still feel the faintly metallic taste of his latest victim on his lips, and it brings him immense satisfaction.

"Ten. Ten dead bodies. Ha ha ha."

But his joy is abruptly cut short when the wall in front of him explodes. Two bullets blast his knee caps apart, and he falls to the ground in pain.

The smoke and rubble clear, and the vile being finally sees his attacker.

"Ah...Horatio...so you've returned."

"I have." Horatio puts on his glasses and looks at the creature bleeding on the floor

"Hi dad."

Spoiler!!! Click to Read!:

YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

__________________
I don't care about your deathmatches. Don't even ask. I'll just report it as spam.

Jesus Christ downs his fourth bottle of Jack Daniels of the afternoon. The alcohol merely serves to warm the pit of his insides. The night was going to be long and delivering salvation to the needy was on the cards. Jesus disintegrated the wife beater and sweat pants he was wearing and replaced it with a brilliant white robe. Moving to his armoury he applied a baldric of grenades over his head, resting it across his his body. An M-16, a Sniper Rifle and a sawn-off shotgun were all lifted from the rack and slung over his shoulder.

Jesus wrapped his blood red headband around his skull and tightened it, admiring his reflection in the mirror. "Yeah. Time to praise the Lord, motherf-ckers". He snarled, biting down on a fat cuban and lighting it with the power of his mind.

He stepped outside of his apartment and clicked his fingers. "Aslan, To Me!" he bellowed. From the shadows a huge lion padded into sight, it's mane billowing in the breeze. Jesus jumped atop the mighty beast and set off out into the city.

Jesus, armed to the teeth whilst riding a lion was going to deliver some holy justice.

__________________

Jones: Tell me the truth… what are you going to feel when you put a bullet in one of those men, Nick?

Horatio keeps his gun trained on the Count. Every time he sees the monster it makes him ashamed. He'd pull the trigger and blow the Count's brains out, but that wouldn't work. He knows, He's tried. About a dozen times. But it is fun, so he'll probably try it again.

But not right now. Right now Horatio needs to ask his father some questions. But something else grabs his attention.

"You hear that?" Horatio asks, looking around.

"...Hear what, my son."

Horatio shoots the count in his shoulder. "Don't call me that." He takes off his sunglasses, leaving the second pair on. "Silence. Don't you hear the silence?"

"...there is nothing. Ha. Ha. Ha. One nothing-"

Horatio shoots the Count's other shoulder.

"Ah, dammit!"

"Nothing's right."

It finally dawns on the count. "They're not writing us anymore. The ****ers left us to rot in this thread."

Horatio slowly nods. "They did indeed."

"So what do we do?"

"What do we do?" Horatio puts his second pair of sunglasses back on.

"We **** the ****ers."

YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

__________________
I don't care about your deathmatches. Don't even ask. I'll just report it as spam.